


Patty Cake

by RABunzai



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Baking, Coffee, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Nick Fury Feels, SHIELD, early days at SHIELD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 05:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10405221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RABunzai/pseuds/RABunzai
Summary: SHIELD agents are bad at boundaries but thankful for each other.





	

 

Being the Director of SHIELD has its perks. He gets a reserved parking space, an unlimited supply of kevlar vests and a large corner office with a view. He also gets his own tearoom across the hall stocked with a never-ending supply of Nespresso. It comes in handy when he’s pulling 20-hour days and needs a coffee fix at four in the morning. Nick heads there now, hoping that the extra caffeine will see him through another hour until daylight breaks and he can get some rest before the European sector reports start filing in.

As he approaches his destination he notices a light from under the door that shouldn’t be on. No one has come or gone on this floor for the past few hours. He knows because he checks the access logs. Regularly.

The fatigue leaves his body as his mind calculates. He pulls out his sidearm and slides up to the door. It shows no signs of forced entry. He listens but there’s no indication of movement in the room within.

Deciding on a course of action he checks his surroundings again and then pushes open the door, swiftly stepping inside the room, pistol cocked and ready.

His entrance is met with complete disregard by the ex-Russian assassin leaning on his counter, determinedly pouring over the contents of a book. With great difficulty he holsters his gun.

“You know, this is my private kitchen.” He grunts, not bothering to hide his irritation. Sometimes it feels like he works for a childcare rather than a covert government agency.

“Is it? I didn’t see a sign.”

“And the lock, you conveniently missed that too?”

The redhead doesn’t look up from her book, simply gives a frustrated sigh and turns to the next page. “If you’re going to use a basic combo lock then you might as well not have one.”

“And the bio scan?” he adds.

At least she has the decency to pause briefly and think about it. “Mmmm, that was harder.” When the spy doesn’t elaborate further, Nick decides he’s going to need some coffee. Leaving her to glare at her book, he starts the coffee maker and goes to the cupboard, pulling out a plain black mug and setting it on the counter.

“Coffee?”

“Sure.”

He grabs a second mug and then reaches for the sugar.

“So you broke into my kitchen in the ass end of the morning to…” He casts an eye at the book she’s engrossed with and frowns. “Bake a cake?”

She bristles slightly but then says rather straightforwardly, “I have been told it’s tradition for new agents to bring baked goods to holiday celebrations.”

“Most agents just buy something from Walmart.” He sighs, handing her the first mug of coffee.

The cake thing is one of those stupid team-building initiatives that HR likes to spruik. He’s rather surprised to find her actually participating let alone going to the effort of baking although part of him is a little curious to see who would deem to try the Black Widow’s baked goods. Actually, he suspects there’s only one person who wouldn’t be afraid of possible poisoning and suddenly her careful cake considerations make a lot more sense.

Nick wants _nothing_ to do with this but he knows all too well how it feels when you can’t say the words you want because years of training and bloody consequences have proven that voicing those words out loud is dangerous, is a weakness, is a liability. So you find other ways. Apparently the Black Widow has found baking. _Damn it._

“He likes pineapple upside down cake.”

She doesn’t respond but she abandons the interrogation of her recipe book, folds her arms and leans with her hip against the counter. He hides his smirk behind a sip of coffee.

There’s a moment in which he can see her war with it, contemplate the angles before she speaks. “It’s not in the book.”

“I happen to know a very good family recipe.” Pause. _Wait_. If this is a negotiation he might as well gain something from it. This is their currency after all; information exchange.

Eventually she relents. “I levered out the fingerprint pad and then used a pin and magnet to move the solenoid and wipe the sensor.”

Satisfied, Nick sets his coffee down and then reaches below to grab a mixing bowl.

“The secret,“ he says, “is to have a good basic vanilla cake recipe.”

 

...

 

After his unusual early morning activities he manages to get some sleep before he’s back at it, saving the world one signature at a time. Around midday when the caffeine craving hits again he heads back to the kitchen. This time the door is ajar and he can see the shadow of a figure moving near the counter top.

“You know, one cake is normally-the fuck?“

His counter is covered in dough, there’s oil in the pan that’s sizzling too close to the edge and his kitchen looks like a war zone. In the middle of it all Clint Barton stands there covered head to toe in flour.

“Hey sir, do you know a good recipe for Pelmeni?”

Nick has to stop himself reaching for his gun.

“Barton,” he growls. “Get out of my kitchen.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Flash fic that happened at Thanksgiving last year...so not so flash.


End file.
